Sano Ichiro 9 The Perfumed Sleeve (2004)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  But his praise didn’t clear the anxiety from Hirata’s face. They both understood that Hirata needed to do much more to regain Sano’s complete trust and their close friendship.

  The shogun’s palace occupied the innermost precinct of Edo Castle, at the top of the hill. Sano and Hirata walked through the dusk toward the palace, along paths that crossed formal gardens. Autumn had stripped most of the leaves from the oaks and maples; only the pines flourished green. Guards patrolled outside interconnected buildings with many-gabled tile roofs, white plaster walls, and dark cypress beams, shutters, and doors. Inside, sentries admitted Sano and Hirata to the audience hall. They crossed the long room, where guards stood and attendants knelt along the walls. From the far end of the room, six men watched Sano and Hirata.

  The shogun sat upon the dais, in front of a mural of a snowy landscape. He wore the cylindrical black cap of his rank and a quilt wrapped around him despite the profusion of charcoal braziers that overheated the room. The six other men sat below the dais, on the upper of the floor’s two levels.

  “I hope you, ahh, have a good reason for requesting this audience, Sano-san,” the shogun said. His frail body, mild, aristocratic features, and hesitant manner compromised the authority expected of Japan’s supreme dictator. At age forty-eight, he seemed elderly. “I feel a cold coming on.”

  Sano and Hirata knelt on the lower floor level and bowed. “A million apologies, Your Excellency,” Sano said, “but I have an important announcement to make.”

  On the upper level, Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat in the place of honor at the shogun’s right. Tall, proud, and slender of figure, he wore lavish, multicolored silk robes. His handsome face was serene, his luminous eyes watchful.

  “And what is this important announcement?” he said in his suave voice.

  “Do tell us, Sōsakan-sama.” Lord Matsudaira, rival of Chamberlain Yanagisawa and leader of the opposing faction, knelt at the shogun’s left. He was the same age as his cousin the shogun, with similar features, but his physique was robust, his expression intelligent. Formally dressed in black robes adorned with gold crests, Lord Matsudaira projected the authority that the shogun lacked. In recent months, he’d insinuated himself into court business. “You have our undivided attention.”

  He and Yanagisawa ignored each other, but Sano sensed their antagonism, like war drums throbbing. Also on the upper floor level sat four members of the Council of Elders, in two rows facing one another. Nearest Yanagisawa sat the pair of elders loyal to him. Opposite them, and nearest Lord Matsudaira, were his two cronies on the council. Senior Elder Makino’s place closest to the dais was conspicuously empty. His colleagues, all men in their sixties, regarded Sano with wary anticipation.

  Sano felt like a warrior setting off a bomb that he hoped wouldn’t blow up in his face. He said, “I regret to inform you that Senior Elder Makino is dead.”

  The bomb exploded in perfect silence. No one moved, but Sano sensed shock waves reverberating and saw consternation on the elders’ faces. Chamberlain Yanagisawa stared at the place once occupied by Makino. He couldn’t control the dismay that registered in his eyes as he comprehended that he’d lost a major ally and the Council of Elders was now evenly divided between his faction and his rival’s. Lord Matsudaira watched Yanagisawa with the gaze of a falcon ready to swoop down on its prey.

  A sob burst from the shogun. “Ahh, my dear old friend Makino-san is gone!” Tears welled in his eyes.

  Sano knew that Tokugawa Tsunayoshi was oblivious of the battle for power that raged under his nose. Since he rarely left the palace, he hadn’t noticed the troops massing. He didn’t know the two factions existed, because no one wanted to tell him. Now, Sano observed, the shogun didn’t realize that the balance of power had just tipped.

  “When did Makino die?” Chamberlain Yanagisawa asked Sano in a voice that sounded dazed, as though he couldn’t believe the misfortune that had befallen him.

  “Sometime last night,” Sano said.

  “That long ago? Why wasn’t I notified at once?” Yanagisawa demanded. His face darkened with anger; he seemed ready to punish Sano for his bad luck.

  “How did you come to learn the news first?” Lord Matsudaira said, enjoying Yanagisawa’s discomfiture even while his tone chastised Sano for delaying the announcement. “Why have you kept it to yourself all day?”

  “I needed time to honor a posthumous request from Senior Elder Makino,” said Sano. “Before he died, he ordered his valet to deliver this letter to me in the event of his death.”

  Frowns of confusion marked the faces turned to Sano as he passed Makino’s letter up the line of elders to the shogun.

  Tokugawa Tsunayoshi read the letter, silently mouthing the words, then looked up from the page. “Makino-san feared that he would be, ahh, assassinated. Therefore, he asked that the sōsakan-sama investigate his death.”

  Chamberlain Yanagisawa snatched the letter from the shogun’s hand. While he read, Sano saw his face acquire the glow of a man who has found light amid darkness.

  “Let me see the letter,” commanded Lord Matsudaira. He looked as though he’d just stepped from high, solid ground into quicksand.

  With mock courtesy, Yanagisawa handed over the letter. Lord Matsudaira read, his expression deliberately blank. Sano sensed his mind racing to chart a safe path through the dangers that the letter posed for him.

  “Have you begun investigating Makino-san’s death as he wished?” Yanagisawa asked Sano.

  “Yes,” Sano said.

  “And what has your investigation revealed?”

  Sano gave a carefully edited summary: “At first it appeared that Makino died in his sleep. But I discovered that his elbow joints had been broken so he could lie flat. And there were bruises on him from a savage beating.”

  Sano didn’t mention the anal injury, which wouldn’t have been noticeable from casual observation. He hoped no one would ask exactly how—or where—the broken joints and bruises had been discovered. To his relief, no one did.

  “Aah, my poor, dear friend,” moaned the shogun.

  Yanagisawa greeted the news with an air of satisfaction. The discomposure on Lord Matsudaira’s face deepened. The elders watched the pair, more concerned about present developments than interested in what had happened to their colleague.

  “Did you conclude that Makino was a victim of foul play?” Yanagisawa asked Sano.

  “Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.”

  “And who murdered him?”

  “That remains to be discovered.” Sano saw Yanagisawa’s thin smile, and his heart sank because he realized that the chamberlain intended to use him as a tool in a scheme against Lord Matsudaira.

  Tears and puzzlement blurred the shogun’s features. “But everyone respected and loved Makino-san.” Everyone else in the room looked at the floor. “Who would want to kill him?”

  “Someone who stood to gain by his death,” Yanagisawa said—and looked straight at Lord Matsudaira.

  Lord Matsudaira stared back at Yanagisawa, clearly appalled by the implicit accusation, though not surprised: He’d expected suspicion to fall on him the moment he’d heard murder mentioned in connection with Makino’s death.

  The two elders allied with Lord Matsudaira sat still as stones. Yanagisawa’s cronies visibly swelled with the advantage they’d gained. Hirata stifled a sharp inhalation. The shogun gazed around in befuddlement. Everyone except him knew that the chamberlain meant to pin Makino’s murder on his rival. And if he succeeded, he and his faction would dominate the shogun and rule Japan unopposed. Sano’s heart beat fast with alarm.

  “Before we decide who killed Makino, we need evidence,” Lord Matsudaira said, hastening to parry Yanagisawa’s strike against him. “Sōsakan-sama, what else did you find at the scene of the crime?”

  Now Sano found himself Lord Matsudaira’s tool, and he liked it no better than serving Yanagisawa. That each man wanted his support disturbed Sano.

  The corrupt chamberlain had parlay
ed his longtime sexual liaison with the shogun into his current high position and kept himself on top by purging or assassinating rivals. He’d enriched himself by channeling money from the Tokugawa treasury into his own. Yanagisawa had treated Sano as a rival until they’d established a truce some three years ago. But Sano knew their truce would continue only as long as it was convenient for the chamberlain.

  Lord Matsudaira was the nobler character of the two rivals, a wise, humane ruler of the citizens in the Tokugawa province he controlled and a crusader against corruption in the bakufu. He had more claim to power than Yanagisawa because he was a Tokugawa clan member. But he lacked the birthright to head the regime, even though he was smarter and stronger than his cousin. And Sano knew that Lord Matsudaira was as ruthlessly ambitious as Yanagisawa. Power wouldn’t improve his nature. Sano hated the thought of bloodshed for nothing more than another corrupt man ruling Japan from behind the scenes.

  At the moment, however, honesty compelled Sano to play into Lord Matsudaira’s hands. “I found a woman’s torn sleeve tangled in the senior elder’s bedding.”

  “A woman?” Lord Matsudaira’s alert posture bespoke his urgent wish to implicate someone else in the murder. “She was with Makino last night?”

  “It would appear that way,” Sano said, though reluctant to cooperate with Lord Matsudaira. “A stain on the sleeve indicated that sex had recently occurred.”

  The shogun squinted with his effort to understand the conversation. Chamberlain Yanagisawa scowled at the evidence that diverted suspicion from his rival. Lord Matsudaira relaxed. He said, “Then the woman could have killed Makino.”

  “She could have had the opportunity,” Sano clarified.

  Questions about Lord Matsudaira surfaced in his mind. Could Lord Matsudaira have been involved in the murder, even if there wasn’t yet any evidence that pointed to him? Perhaps he wasn’t an innocent man defending himself from political attack but a killer trying to escape punishment.

  “So this woman is a suspect in the murder.” Chamberlain Yanagisawa addressed Sano, but his glare at Lord Matsudaira presaged another attack. “Can you tell us who she is?”

  “I’m sorry to say my inquiries haven’t progressed that far,” Sano replied.

  Satisfaction gleamed in Yanagisawa’s eyes. “Then you haven’t determined whether she did kill Makino.”

  “That’s correct.” Sano felt the reply detach him from Lord Matsudaira’s camp and place him in Yanagisawa’s. Hirata watched the rivals in fascination, as if he perceived their invisible lines reeling Sano back and forth.

  Lord Matsudaira forced a chuckle as he saw the advantage move toward his enemy. “But the sōsakan-sama hasn’t proved that the woman didn’t kill Makino.” Or that I did, said his gaze that encompassed everyone in the room.

  Yanagisawa acknowledged his rival’s parry with a faint sneer. “What else did you find at the death scene, Sōsakan Sano?” he said, intent on wringing every last piece of ammunition out of Sano.

  Much as Sano loathed to help the chamberlain, he couldn’t withhold important facts. “There were signs that someone broke into the study adjacent to Makino’s bedchamber.”

  While he described the scene in the study, he saw Yanagisawa’s sneer turn to gloating exultation and Lord Matsudaira try in vain to hide distress.

  “The woman had nothing to do with the murder,” Yanagisawa said, stating opinion as fact. “It’s obvious that Makino was killed by an assassin who sneaked into his estate, then attacked and beat him, on orders from one of his enemies.”

  His hostile gaze at Lord Matsudaira conveyed the accusation that he verged on speaking. A thrill of horror shot through Sano. Would his personal quest for truth and honor ignite the war he dreaded? The elders loyal to Yanagisawa shot vindictive glances at their counterparts, who looked anxiously toward Lord Matsudaira. Sweat glistened on his face. He knew, as Sano did, that if the shogun were made to believe he’d had Makino assassinated, and done it to gain power, his status as a Tokugawa branch clan leader wouldn’t protect him from the law. The shogun would execute him to crush the threat to his own supremacy.

  But Lord Matsudaira rallied without hesitation. “Have you identified the assassin?” he asked Sano.

  “I’m sorry to say I haven’t.”

  “What? Do you mean he didn’t leave his name at the murder scene? He didn’t drop a letter ordering him to kill Makino, signed by his employer?” Lord Matsudaira feigned surprise; the sharp blade of his sarcasm lashed out at Yanagisawa. When Sano gave a negative reply, he said, “Then there’s no proof of who the assassin is or who hired him. Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Sano said as the invisible line hauled him back toward Lord Matsudaira’s side.

  “In fact,” Lord Matsudaira said, “there’s no proof that an assassin did break into the study and kill Makino. Someone already in the house could have killed him. Someone could have planted evidence that an outsider assassinated Makino.”

  This was the alternative possibility that Sano had hinted at to Hirata before the meeting.

  “Your Excellency, I suggest that the evidence was planted to frame an innocent man who is your own blood kin,” Lord Matsudaira concluded.

  His eyes glinted at Yanagisawa. Now came Yanagisawa’s turn to sweat, Sano thought as the chamberlain rolled his tongue in his mouth. If the shogun became convinced that Yanagisawa had framed his cousin for murder, he would execute Yanagisawa for treason against the Tokugawa clan. Their liaison wouldn’t protect Yanagisawa. He and Lord Matsudaira had aimed insinuations like deadly guns at each other. Who would fire the first shot?

  “Would somebody please, ahh, tell me what you are, ahh, trying to say?” the shogun burst out. He flapped his hands at Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa. “I order you both to, ahh, talk sense instead of riddles!”

  Dread and excitement rose within Sano. He sensed Hirata and the elders breathing in shallow, careful inhalations. Suspense froze even the guards and attendants. Would Yanagisawa explain to the shogun that he accused Lord Matsudaira of political assassination, or Lord Matsudaira explain that he accused Yanagisawa of treason? Would the shogun finally realize that they were fighting for control of his regime?

  Would the two rivals escalate their covert maneuvering into fullblown warfare that would determine who ruled Japan?

  “We’re discussing the murder, Your Excellency,” Yanagisawa said in a semblance of his usual calm, suave tone.

  “We’re trying to determine who committed it and how.” Lord Matsudaira matched his foe’s deliberate nonchalance.

  “Ahh,” the shogun said doubtfully.

  Yanagisawa said, “Perhaps the sōsakan-sama has something else to report that could shed light on the matter.”

  He and Lord Matsudaira leaned toward Sano and focused expectant gazes, replete with menace, on him. Sano realized that they were too smart and cautious to proceed against each other without hearing all the facts. Each wanted Sano to say something that benefited him and hurt his enemy-or else. Now Sano saw fate hinging on his answer.

  But the only possible answer was the truth. “I have nothing else to report at this time, Your Excellency,” he said.

  Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat back: Neither wanted to voice a blatant accusation that later discoveries could disprove. Sano saw Hirata’s and the elders’ chests inflate with breaths of relief. His own breath eased from him as he envisioned two armies retreating from the battlefield. But the clash between the rivals had fueled the impetus toward war.

  “You must, ahh, fulfill Makino-san’s request to avenge his death,” the shogun told Sano.

  “With your permission, I will continue my inquiries,” Sano said.

  “Permission granted,” the shogun said. “Proceed without delay.”

  “Your Excellency,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said, “this is a very important investigation. Therefore, I shall supervise it and make sure that Sōsakan Sano does everything right.”

  “As you wish,�
� the shogun said, always ready to go along with his lover.

  Dismay struck Sano. He knew from experience that Yanagisawa was capable of manipulating an investigation to suit himself. With Yanagisawa at the helm, the investigation would become less a search for the truth than a weapon to incriminate and destroy Lord Matsudaira.

  Awareness of this certainty flashed in Lord Matsudaira’s eyes. “The murder of a high Tokugawa official requires that a Tokugawa clan member lead the investigation. Therefore, I shall be the one to supervise, not the honorable chamberlain.”

  “Very well.” The shogun yielded to the cousin that Sano knew he feared as well as admired.

  Yanagisawa’s face reflected consternation. Sano himself didn’t welcome Lord Matsudaira’s oversight any more than he did Yanagisawa’s. A fight for survival could compromise the principles of the most honorable man. Goaded and threatened, Lord Matsudaira was just as capable as Yanagisawa of forsaking justice and using the investigation to persecute his enemy.

  “The honorable Lord Matsudaira has no experience with investigations,” said Yanagisawa, “whereas I solved the murder case of the imperial minister three years ago.” He and Sano had solved the case together, but Yanagisawa had stolen all the credit. “Amateurs should stand aside and let professionals do the job.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” the shogun said, wavering.

  Lord Matsudaira glowered at Yanagisawa’s slight against him. “Tokugawa interests are at stake,” he said. “Only a Tokugawa is qualified to protect them.”

  “Indeed,” the shogun said meekly.

  “Excuse me, Honorable Lord Matsudaira, but I’ve been protecting Tokugawa interests very well for years,” Yanagisawa retorted. “And my friendship with Senior Elder Makino qualifies me to ensure that his wish is fulfilled. You, on the other hand, have no reason to care about avenging his death.”

  “Your emotions toward Makino will interfere with your judgment,” Lord Matsudaira argued, his voice harsh and his complexion red with anger. “You can’t supervise the investigation in a fair, objective manner. I can.”